Page 30 of Meet Me in Berlin

‘That’s not the point.’ She grabs the milk from the fridge and splashes some into the brewing tea. ‘I can afford to buy me a cake too, but I can get the exact same thing at Asda for a pound eighty-five.’

‘It’s different quality,’ I say.

‘All made in the same factory.’ Mum places the mug in front of me.

‘They’re not, Wendy.’ Jaz gets up and pulls the cake from the bag. ‘Ooh, I love a Waitrose sponge. We having this now?’

Mum slaps her hand away.

‘That’s a no, then.’ Jaz grins and joins me back at the table.

I sip Mum’s magic tonic tea and the remaining tension inside me loosens. ‘Ah. You make the best tea, Mum.’ I stick my feet up on a chair. ‘Where’s my sis?’

The thunk of the front door opening and closing echoes through the house and Mum gestures to the hallway. ‘That’s her home from work now.’

My sister shuffles in, frown in place. ‘What you two doing here?’ she says to Jaz and me, plonking a package wrapped in white paper on the bench. ‘There’s your black pud, Mum.’

‘Nice to see you too,’ I say.

‘Yeah, hiya,’ Chandice says, then focuses on Jaz. ‘Fucking hell, mate, you look like you’ve been dragged under a train.’

‘Cheers,’ Jaz says. ‘You’re looking good, too, with your butcher get-up and bags under your eyes.’

‘And you’ve got a face like a wet kipper,’ I say to Chandice. ‘What’s up with you?’

She drops onto a chair. ‘Shut it, you two.’

At twenty-eight, my sister decided she was going to do a second degree in creative and professional writing and move back home so she could be close to the University of East London campus. The downside for her is that if she wants free rent, she has to do shifts in the butcher, which she hates. The downside for our parents is that Chandice being at home again has regressed her to a fifteen-year-old state.

Mum puts a mug of tea in front of Chandice. ‘You want a fry-up, love?’

Chandice screws up her face like Mum has offered her a plate of human body parts. ‘A meat fry-up? I’m vegetarian, Mum.’

‘Just have eggs, then,’ Mum says.

‘Did you get any vegetarian black pudding the other day when I asked?’ Chandice says.

Mum gives her a look. ‘What’s that? The blood of a mushroom? Don’t be daft.’

Chandice rolls her eyes. ‘I’m starving.’

‘There’s some leftover veg in the fridge – grab it out, I’ll do you a bubble-n-squeak,’ Mum says.

I shake my head and mutter, ‘Spoilt brat.’

Chandice hops up and opens the fridge. ‘Spoilt? I’ve been hacking up meat since 6 am.’

‘For free rent,’ I remind her.

She ignores me and nudges Jaz. ‘Go on, then. What you get up to last night?’ She points to Jaz’s short, black dress. ‘That’s obviously last night’s outfit.’

‘It’s too steamy for you,’ Jaz says. ‘You couldn’t handle it.’

‘Oh, I can handle it. I’m writing steamy romances now.’

I laugh. ‘Is that so?’

‘Too right,’ Chandice says. ‘I need some material.’

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